Pain and Pleasure
by bitemebeezlebub
Summary: On a vacation to rid herself of her mundane life, Rachel finds herself on the Hewitt Farm, where she meets Tommy
1. Chapter 1

A holiday in New Mexico sounds fun, thought Rachel as she crammed the last of her clothes into her tattered suitcase. Besides, it would be an immense pleasure to get out of the house. She would be meeting her aunt at the boarder, but would be driving through Texas by herself, which she was looking forward to, had always wanted to take a road trip by herself.

Rachel pulled her long choppy hair back into a ponytail and backed out of her driveway. As she left, the suns reflected on the signs and made the shadows sway, seeming to wave goodbye to her. Rachel checked to make sure she had all her road maps, and turned on the radio.

There was nothing good on, so she switched to the news. The news anchor was just finishing a missing person's report. Rachel listened with interest as the news anchor speculated on whether this could be part of a recent string of disappearances, or someone trying to avoid being drafted. Rachel listened for a while, and then turned it off. It had nothing to do with her.

It was about 9 when Rachel stopped for the night. The patched-up looking general store was the only building that she had come upon for a while. She went in and searched for provisions. She put her purchases on the counter, and waited for the desk help. Since there was no one there, she sat in a corner, far away from the motorcycle gang that was eying her in a slightly creepy way.

The paper was really not that interesting, all about livestock, and the weather, of course. A large section of the third page was taken up by a photograph of teenage girl, who had apparently been mutilated by a chainsaw.

Rachel looked interestedly for a while, then paid for her merchandise and left. She had planned on driving up a while further before stopping but only went a short ways before the engine made a rough, guttural sound and came to a stop.

"Ah, shit."

Well, there seemed to be a house a while up, which she could walk to and request some gas, for until she reached the next gas station. Rachel rolled up her fluffiest sweater, and curled up on the back seat. She drifted slowly off to sleep, and dreamed of pain and pleasure, and sweet, bloodied kisses.

When she woke she was panting frantically, and rubbing her hand against herself between her thighs. Rachel couldn't remember having such an incredibly erotic dream before. She flung her head back to look at the sky. It was blood-red; morning. Rachel took a few minutes to cool down (though that was difficult), and watched the tumbleweeds roll across the sand. She saw that she had been right about there being a house across from her, and she resumed her earlier plan to ask for help there.

She went what looked like a barn and knocked. Maybe there was someone inside who could help her. There was no discernable answer, but Rachel thought that she could here a noise there. She knocked again, peered in the window, and saw a dark shape in the corner of the room. Rachel was about to walk away when she saw it move, and heard a muffled groan. Was it, a person?

"Hey-are you okay?"

Rachel went quickly in side and gasped as she saw a small, red-faced man, who was tied to a rocking chair. Rachel noticed bemusedly that his captors had provided him with a cushion for his back, which appeared to be broken in several places. It had little white ducks on it. Rachel rushed over to the man and tried to undue the knots, and when finding herself unsuccessful, looked around for something sharp. The man made a moaning noise and cringed.

"It's okay; you're going to be okay."

Rachel heard a shuffling noise behind her, and screamed once before something hit her temple and she passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel's first coherent thought was that she was in some kind of cocoon. There was a strange smell, like rusty nails. She wanted to stay where she was, but kept knocking against something, and her side was really starting to hurt. Rachel sat up slowly, her head throbbing, and blinked groggily.

Her eyes lighted on a mangles form, and she gasped as she recognized the man from before. Rachel stared at his slack face with a kind of sick fascination. She had to stifle a scream when the truck hit a pothole, and the man's shoulder ripped out of its soft socket. Apparently the person driving the truck heard her, though, because she heard him shout over the motor.

"Hey now, you alright back there? No need to be upset. There's a blanket if you don't want to look at it."

Rachel snatched the blanket and used it to cover the man. There were still large bloodstains that seeped through and made patterns like the clouds in the sky.

Rachel stirred, having fallen into a restless kind of exhausted sleep. A moment later, she wished she hadn't. She found that she was covered in the blanket that had previously been the shroud of the unknown man at the house; she shrieked and flung it from her. There was a path of blood where it looked like the body had been dragged.

"No need to be like that," said a voice to her left.

Rachel jerked away as much as the rope would let her, no longer minding the stickiness that had settles into pools in the groves of the truck.

"My name's Luda Mae Hewitt. You'd best forget about the man you saw earlier today, he wouldn't be singing for a while yet." Luda Mae extended her hand to Rachel.

"Ooh, you're a pretty one. Tommy'll want you're face. I'll confess I think his present one is getting a little soggy. Now, why don't we get you inside and get you cleaned up and such?"

Rachel followed the muffled footsteps into the light. She saw an old woman with fluffy white hair and a kind face, with many layers of sweaters and beads. She was carrying an M16 rifle.

"Come on, miss."

"Why don't you just kill me? You don't care what happens to me."

"Well, no. But you're lucky that we have enough to tide us over at the moment, what with the newest arrival. So at present, we'll just keep you in storage."

"Wh-what does that mean? And what are you talking about with he 'wants my face'? What's wrong with his?"

Luda Mae or, 'Momma' did not answer. Rachel followed behind, very warily, knowing that she had no choice. Momma led her onto the dimly lit porch into the house, and carefully tied her to a bedpost in some room. "Welcome to the Hewitts." Momma said, and left her.

She came back awhile later; Rachel thought it was the next day. This was confirmed by Momma saying that if she was good, then she could join the family for dinner, and smiled, like this was a big treat.

"Now's the time to clean yourself up."

Said Momma Hewitt, and led Rachel to the washroom. She stood outside while Rachel scrubbed the blood and dirt off her skin, and under her fingernails, and carefully cleaned the area where she had been hit. Momma came in, knocking despite the door being locked from the outside, and led her down to meet the rest of the family.

The kitchen was a lot brighter than the hallways, and Rachel had to shield her eyes from the light. Momma said something, and the lamp was adjusted. Rachel looked around at the people settled around the table. An old man, also with glasses, who was in a wheelchair, a man wearing a sheriff uniform who was sitting at the head of the table, and Luda Mae, who was currently chaining Rachel to the table leg.

"That's where you'll be sitting then, dearie." Momma said.

"So, you're Momma's new pet, huh." said the man in the sheriff uniform. He examined her with his eyes like you would a side of beef at the deli. Momma gave Rachel a plate of stringy-looking vegetables, a slice of bread, and a portion of some kind of meat.

"Well, now, I'm Sheriff Hoyt, this here is Uncle Monty, and you already know Momma. We're just waiting on Tommy now."

Rachel jumped when she heard a heavy clomping on the stairs, and tried to turn around, but the chain stopped her. She felt a presence behind her, and was frightened.

'Sit down, Tommy." Momma said softly.

Rachel didn't look. Momma indicated that it was time to say grace, and they all lowered their heads. Rachel folded her hands and stole a quick look to her left, then immediately looked away again.

Tommy was very tall, even more so than whom Rachel guessed was his father. He had longish hair that fell messily to his shoulders, and was wearing many layers of loose clothing. On his face he had a mask, with pieces slashed out for the eyes and mouth. There was blood smeared around the mouth and chin. Rachel felt like she was dreaming as she watched Tommy bow his head. But this is real, thought Rachel. He's real and they're real and they'll kill me, and oh god, if he looks at me I'll die, I just know it.

He did not look at her, only sat there, silently. Rachel noticed that he only ate the meat portion, which she had refused to touch, not wanting to find out that it was some weird kind of desert animal. Rachel noticed that Momma continued to call the man 'Charlie" even though he had introduced himself as Sheriff Hoyt.

Charlie asked for Rachel's opinions on the war, and Rachel tried to keep her opinions as neutral as possible, until she figured out their position. After a while, Momma told her that she had been such a good girl tonight that she would let her stay in a room tonight, locked, of course.

Momma led her to a bedroom with pale blue carpeting and ivory-colored walls. This was identified as the guest bedroom. There was a large window that would not let in any light because it was nailed shut from the outside. Momma handed Rachel a candle, and left. Rachel lay on the bed, too exhausted from the spent adrenaline to sleep.

She curled up and tried to relax. This was difficult due to the influence of a certain scary individual. She knew that no one in this house would hesitate to kill her, and with that thought, fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel jerked awake. She thought she had heard someone say something.

"I said, we have a new load today! One of them has something funny with his legs, so we're going to use him first."

Rachel sat up, and registered that it was Momma who was talking.

"Get up now, miss. You can help us by preparing it for dinner. Charlie has gone off on patrol, case there's anyone looking for you. Tommy's gone with him; he's a good boy."

Rachel figured that this would be a good time to ask about the family dynamics. Momma chatted while she looped Rachel's arm with rope, and took the other end. Apparently, the old man was her husband.

"Just call him Uncle Monty, everyone does."

The man who had sized her up at dinner was not a real sheriff; he used it for the people whose cars had broken down on the highway, who were glad to see an authority figure.

"And Tommy?" Rachel asked quietly.

Momma paused in leading Rachel down the hall.

"Tommy. Well, it figures you'd be curious about him. I found him, you know, in a dumpster. His mum didn't want him none. He just-"

"Just what?"

"He has his own way of doing things, and is you interrupt that then I wouldn't bet on _your_ life. And he's very protective of the family. You'll see what I mean."

Momma seated Rachel at the table and gave her some toast. Rachel was beginning to see how things worked at the Hewitt household. It seemed that life was centered around mealtimes, mainly dinner, the one time of day the entire family was together.

The sun was very bright, and stunned Rachel for a moment, after being kept inside for so long. Momma tugged on the rope and led her across the fields to the large barn she had seen before. She unbolted the door and directed Rachel inside to the right. The rays of sunlight through the cracks lit up the clouds of dust in the air. Rachel found the room to be completely empty, except for a few bales of hay and something covered with a sheet in the corner. She heard a shuffling behind her, and Momma said,

"I'm going to give you a knife now, this is normally Tommy's lob, but he's off, as you know. Stand to the left."

Rachel weighted the knife Momma had given her in her hands. Very heavy. Too heavy to conduct her freedom with? Rachel feared the answer might be yes. Rachel asked quietly what Momma wanted her to do.

"Well, first you should get the best parts out, the liver and kidneys. There are buckets beside them piles of hay."

"Wh-what?"

What the hell was she talking about? Rachel looked over at the strange lumpy thing in the corner. It had a strange smell about it, unpleasant and vaguely familiar. Under Momma's gaze, she drew the sheet back from the very edges, and jumped back. It was wearing tight denim pants and a bloodied plaid shirt, and had no hands or feet.

Rachel couldn't help herself from looking at the bruised face. The nose was obviously broken, and dried blood had clotted in streams from his ears, turning black. She looked at her knife (carving knife, oh god), and then at Momma in desperation.

"Ah, I see why you're so upset. You have to cover up his face, Rachel."

"He's a person!" Rachel cried.

"Not anymore." Momma replied, still in a sympathetic tone. She sighed, and set something down. "I really wish they both hadn't gone off today. Charlie could explain this so much better than I can." She paused. "It was always difficult, even before the war. And it's never easy to see one's family go hungry. So we used natural resources. Everyone has to eat."

"And what about me?"

Momma appeared in the doorway, looking strangely angelic with a halo of light around her.

"You'll be fine for a while. As you can see, we have fresh meat already. Alright, I'll do this one. You can feed the animals if you're feeling squeamish."

Rachel cast a last look at the man in the corner, and then followed Momma out.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel was determined to hate Luda Mae for the rest of her life. And the others!

Cannibals, cannibals, rang hollowly in her head like iron bells. She had asked Momma for a sewing project, the one thing she had retained from Home Ec class, to keep herself busy and not think about what had happened before.

The worst part was, she now was suspecting every piece of meat that was served to once have had a name and a family, and which parts were safe to eat. She avoided the soups on principle, there being bits of meat, and other things she did not recognize. Pity, thought Rachel, they actually looked good.

And the rest of Momma's cooking was always delicious. She had asked Momma for a sewing project, if only to stay in her good graces, and now sat in the living room by herself, working on embroidering a cloth that would hang outside the door. All she had left was the upper left corner.

She was having to use some of Momma's extra thread, seeing as she had run out of the other kind a while ago, and did not like how this kind constantly unraveled. Rachel jumped slightly as she heard the now familiar clanging of the back door.

Slowly, she was gradually getting used to the family's' various habits. Momma was still kind to her, and she knew how to act with Charlie.

Speak loudly enough, respect his authority, agree with _everything_ he says about the war, and that all deserters are shit. Tommy never confronted her directly, but she could fell him watching her sometimes, made her feel nervous as hell.

And now…Rachel listened warily as Tommy went into the kitchen and dropped his salary into big glass jar where the family kept their savings. He had a job at a _meat factory_, probably where he learned how to dissect so well.

Rachel had noticed how cleanly the corpses she had seen were butchered. She rarely saw him, except for now and at mealtimes.

Now he's going to leave, Rachel thought. Leave and go down to his basement. He didn't though, and Rachel considered running away, before remembering that she was tied to a freaking post.

What if today is the day the Hewitt family ran out of "supplies", and now they were forced to eat their guest. Not that she thought there would be many tears at her funeral. She kept her head down as Tommy neared her and then stopped. She looked up slowly at the shadowy figure that loomed above her, not daring to breathe.

He did have something in his hand, thought it didn't look particularly sharpish. Rachel had never noticed his eyes before, never being close enough to see. They were a warm amber that contrasted sharply with the rough texture of his mask.

She looked down again, a strange feeling of heat inside her, and watched with her peripheral vision as Tommy moved past her and dropped something lightly on the tabletop, and then disappeared outside.

Rachel walked over to the table and stared at the bag nervously before opening it. She let the silky threads run through her fingers. This would almost be considered luxurious, especially with all the war shortages. Rachel wondered if she should even use it, but then decided that since it was for her for this project, it was alright.

Rachel put away her stitching and waited for someone to come to unshackle her so she could wash up for dinner. Uncle Monty announced his presence by a quiet wheezing and the dull thump of his cane on the wooden floor.

As always, Rachel thought of how easy it would be to escape from so useless a warden, but she knew it was unlikely she would get very far, without her car.

She listened every night to the sound of the wind blowing the sand up against her

window, and the occasional car. And she didn't want to find out what would happen to

her if she did go against the rules.


	5. Chapter 5

Tonight is defiantly a special night, Rachel thought. She was cutting up onions from Momma's garden to use to season the chicken soup that was to be served.

It was the first day of fall, and they were having company over, Momma's friend, . Rachel was finding that she was losing track of the time she had spent at the Hewitt's; she could only estimate that she had been there about 3 months. Despite the constant threat of her physical safety, she had fallen into an uneasy routine.

She would get up at whatever time Momma chose to wake her, be led to the bathroom where she would wash up, and then eat breakfast alone, tied to a kitchen chair. In general, she spent most of her time with Momma, helping with household chores. She told herself that helping these people was a matter of survival, that it was vital that she appear more useful as a guest that as a source of meat. And she was learning a lot. She had finished the cloth using the thread Tommy had given her, and now Momma had instructed Rachel to watch her cook, which Rachel took as a good sign. Be wasting time if they planned to get rid of her soon, right?

After helping Momma, she would have the rest of the afternoon to herself, until dinner. Then she tried to make herself fall asleep as quickly as possible, and not to dream.

The food shortages were becoming more frequent as the president ordered more and more troops to the fray in Vietnam. She finished cutting up the onions with the knife, too dull to be of any real use, except with surprise, careful not to tangle up the chain on her left wrist. Gods, but these things are hard to get used to, Rachel thought, and added some paprika to the seasoning of the soup. She wondered if there was any chance of Momma's friend seeing her with her ties, and then calling the police. As if reading her thoughts through the steam that now floated about the kitchen, Momma's voice cut in:

" knows you're here, of course. You'll get to meet her. More'n any of the other's have done! "

Momma laughed and began to do the dishes, forming a rhythmic clanging.

"I could help, if you untied me."

Momma gave her a look.

"I'm not that foolish, miss. You've been a good girl so far, though, so I'll a let you stay for the visit, eh?"

So much for outside help, Rachel thought. She sat down in a chair and closed her eyes against the kitchen light; they suddenly seemed much, much too bright.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite her earlier warning, Momma later did give Rachel a little more freedom, allowing her to be untied for as long as it took for her to bring the washed pots to the storage space near the basement. Not _in_ the basement, though, that was Tommy's lair, and forbidden to her. Rachel stacked the pots as neatly and quietly as she could, and closed the door, standing in the staircase.

She was intensely reminded of the story about Bluebeard's wife; she had been given an egg and a key, and told not to go into a certain room. She did, of course, and got the egg bloody when she opened the door and saw the head and body of several of his previous wives. When Bluebeard returned, he saw what she had done, cut off her head and joined her body to the pile of severed corpses. His next wife, who was also given a key and an egg, left the egg behind when she went exploring. She found the room with Bluebeard's wives, and rejoined the heads and bodies of the women together. They came back to life, and then murdered Bluebeard.

Rachel looked at Bluebeard's door. Maybe Tommy wasn't there? Didn't she remember hearing him leave to go to the barn? Oh, hell…

Rachel descended along the last steps in the staircase, stopping every few steps to listen for approaching footsteps. The door was slightly ajar; Rachel pushed it open and observed her surroundings. It was dim, with no windows and only a dim bulb suspended from the ceiling to cast any light. It looked like a workshop, with wooden tables and ominous-looking metal objects. Rachel went up to the nearest table and found some wire. She curled it around itself and threaded it on the inside of her pants leg. Rachel took one last glance at the cavern and turned to leave the way she had come, when she saw a lump in the corner, and went over to it, cursing her curiosity.

Her immediate thought upon seeing the body was of a Thanksgiving dinner turkey that she had seen in a butcher's shop. Like in an autopsy, he had been sliced open from the base of his throat tot eh middle of his stomach, and what looked like where the liver should be, there was a great gaping hole, coated with blackened, congealed blood. The heart had also been targeted, and the ribs had been pulled off to the sides. Little bits had broken off and were embedded in the softer flesh that was the sides of the torso. Rachel was unable to move, she was shocked at this garnish yet practical display that she had found. She vaguely processed hearing something, and then whipped around to face Tommy.

"Hello, Bluebeard." Said Rachel, rather hysterically, and laughed. Tommy tilted his head to the side and watched her. Rachel suddenly realized where she was and stopped laughing abruptly. Oh God oh God what if he kills me what if he makes me like the other ones here oh God if he touches me I'll just die I know it

Tommy did not touch her. He peered at her through the bloodied mask, which was curling at the edges, and then abruptly turned and went over to one of tables. Startled by this abandonment, Rachel stood there for a moment before realizing that she was alive and turning to leave. She paused.

"Thank you. For-for not killing me."

Tommy looked up and almost seemed to nod at her. She left.


	7. Chapter 7

All in all, Rachel thought that she was doing rather well. And despite being scared half to death this morning, she had gotten the wire, though it wasn't very much use now, especially since she was tied with a very thick, coarse rope. Momma had thoroughly warned Rachel against doing anything that might upset their visitor. At the moment, she and Momma were discussing food, namely, coconut candies, which she seemed to be particularly fond of. Momma's friend hadn't taken any notice of her, but by now Rachel hoped that she was used to this crazy neighborhood's behaviors to pain and suffering.

Rachel also had found that she herself was changing. Her reactions to the thing in the basement had been extreme, but so had been the thing itself. She now found that she could stomach most deaths much easier, and could usually distract herself from the cries of pain, usually coming from the barn. Food seemed to be central to this family, brought a sense of common purpose to the chaos and helped to bring them together.

Rachel still refused to eat the soups. Or anything that looked like it might contain meat. The Hewitts didn't seem to care, Momma laughed and Uncle Charlie scowled and muttered something about her being to good for them, but nothing other than that.

She listened to them discuss various things that people who have farms talk about, and soon enough Momma was biding her _different_ kind of guest goodbye into the inky black night.

Later that night, Rachel reflected to herself that the mirror was broken, and that this might be useful to her. She tried to pull a piece of it our, but that only served to cut a sliver into the pad of her finger. She cursed and pulled her finger away, then unconsciously put her finger in her mouth. As she felt the tang of her own metallic blood she wondered what other people's blood would taste like, whether Tommy's would be salty like the ocean or sweet like hers…

Rachel paused, staring at herself in the mirror. Where in _hell_ had that thought come from. Well, she wasn't going to think about it any more. Nope. Not at all.

Gods, Rachel thought suddenly. What was she becoming? Sympathizing with her captors? Lusting over their monster of a son?

Still, this newer, frightening part of her argued, he has been a good don so far, hasn't he? He protected them from intruders, helped with some of the bloodier chores, was, well, loyal. Wasn't that what she…wanted?

Rachel's head hurt. She wanted nothing more than to rest, and to drain these thoughts from her mind like the swelling from a wound.


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel shivered as the cold water rushed over her hands, washing her arms and hands free from blood. She felt like a stage performer, washing up after a performance. Good, show, good show, she told herself vaguely. She had been forced to mutilate, or "prepare for dinner", several animals today. She did not want to think of them as people, no they were animals, and it was not her fault they were dead.

Rachel sat perched on the edge of her bed. She had heard Momma and the others discussing the food shortage, it seemed like this one was worse than usual. Rachel knew that she was probably going to die soon. She wondered what her legacy would be. Who would remember her? She had not bothered to keep contact with her family, and had few friends. Still…she didn't want to die like this. Trapped by a sadistic family, hell bent on surviving, no matter what the cost to others. A quiet rattling of the lock, and Momma came in.

"Hello, young miss."

"Hello. Are you going to kill me now." Rachel noticed Momma significantly lacked a weapon.

"Thought about it. Times are tough, you know."

"I know."

"You gonna panic now, like the others? Plead for your life?"

Rachel did not say anything, just returned Momma's gaze. She was startled when Momma suddenly broke out in a smile.

"Want to know why we ain't gonna kill you? You're different."

"Different how."

Momma sat down on the bed, turned towards Rachel.

"You have a spark in you, an instinct for survival. I bet you haven't stopped planning your escape since you got here. And yet you haven't once considered killing yourself."

"How do you know that?"

"I've seen plenty of suicides on my time, and I can tell you're not one of them. You're stronger than that. And that's why I have something to ask you. You don't have any family, do you?"

"Not-not really."

"Well, then, Miss Rachel, you have a choice. You can return to your home in the city, or you can stay with us, as a part of this family."

Rachel was shocked. Out of all the things she was expecting Momma to say, that was not one of them. Stay with the Hewitts? Become one of the family? Family…Rachel had never really considered what it must be like to be surrounded by people who would protect her no matter what. Her own family had been distant, leaving her by herself. The Hewitts would never leave her alone. They would never abandon her.

"Can I have a little while to think about it."

"Of course, dear."

And so Rachel was left alone again with her thoughts, her fate in her hands, feeling more powerful and more alive than she had ever felt before.


	9. Chapter 9

Rachel woke feeling panicked, before remembering Momma's vow not to kill her. She lay back in her sheets, too overwhelmed to get up. She had decided yesterday that she wanted to go home, but now she wasn't sure. What awaited her at home? Life just like she had lived before, nothing exciting or new. While life at the Hewitts…well, it might be a lot of things, terrifying not being the least of them, but it certainly was exciting.

There was no one in the kitchen; Rachel figured that she had woken up earlier than everyone else, and began to make breakfast. There hadn't been a lock on her door. Rachel supposed that there was to be no more locked doors for her, no more chains. This made her think of Tommy, and how the determination with which he _had_ been avoiding her seemed to have stopped. She might catch several glances of him in a day, not including dinner, and it seemed that he made no attempt to run away from her gaze.

Rachel had just finished setting the table when Uncle Monty made an appearance. He looked at her pleadingly until she went over and helped him to his seat. She was moving away when he grasped her sleeve and leaned over to her ear.

"I hope you decide to stay."

Rachel was surprised, Uncle Monty had never spoken to her, indeed, had never shown any interest in her at all. She smiled at him, grateful for his support, and sat down. Momma bustled in and rearranged the plates Rachel put out.

"No, no, Tommy sits _here_, not next to Uncle Monty. You two should get acquainted by now." Uncle Monty winked at her, and Rachel wondered faintly what was going on. Wasn't there going to be any pressuring her, any demanding of her answer? Momma glanced at her, and, reading her face, said, "You can give us your answer tonight, young miss. You should have the day to think about it."

"Thank you," Rachel said quietly. She turned her head at a quiet shuffling noise, and saw that Timmy had entered with Charlie. Tommy kept his head down as he took his place at the table, but Rachel thought she caught a shy glance in her direction. Or perhaps she had imagined it? Rachel shook her head mentally. You have bigger things to think about than Tommy? But then…wasn't Tommy part of it? He would be part of her new family, would in fact be her brother.

Charlie sat at the head of the table, and started eating first. That seemed to be the signal for everyone else to eat, and Rachel felt proud that no one complained about the food; apparently Momma's cooking lessons were paying off. She finished her food and looked around the table at her other diners. There was Uncle Monty, who apparently did not despise her presence, there was Charlie, who she knew would have killed her by now had he not wanted her to be there, there was Momma, who had given her the option in the first place, and there was Tommy, who Rachel could not figure out. He was so strong, and yet in a way dependent on his family. Rachel knew he was strong because she had watched him at his chores yesterday, his muscles rippling under his tattered shirt.

Rachel got up to help Momma with the dishes, and as she reached for the plates, her hand brushed against Tommy's for the briefest of a millisecond, and she felt faintly terrified and yet exhilarated. I finally touched him! Not that he seemed to notice…She glanced at Tommy, who seemed as stoic and unmoving as ever. Nope.

With the dishes having been put away and the day's plans having been discussed, the family began to depart. Rachel watched as they left their own separate ways, and then saw out of the corner of her eye, Tommy make his way into his basement. Rachel hesitated, and then followed him.

The basement was as dank and musty as she remembered it; the only difference was that now she knew for sure that it was occupied. She looked up and saw dripping pieces of meat hanging from hook. Hmm, better to avoid being under those. Rachel saw an ajar door, and seeing as Tommy seemed to be absent, she went in.

The inside was similar to a cave; there was a large nest of blankets in the corner and yet another worktable, this one stacked with faces. Fascinated, Rachel went over and examined them. There was one that was clearly a woman's face, one she remembered him wearing when she first came. Apparently it was Tommy's equivalent to dressing up. another that

Rachel picked up the woman's face. It felt slippery in her hands, and Rachel wondered how it stayed on his face before she saw the strap in the back. She saw that the makeup must have been applied after the face had been taken, and figured that he must have used Momma's. There was the faint noise of footsteps, and Rachel turned around quickly, remembering how she had been unaware of his presence before. She was still holding the mask when Tommy appeared behind her, silent as always. Rachel's instinct was to turn and run, but another part of her told her to stay. She wanted to know what it would be like for her to live with such a man as Tommy. She carefully put the mask on the table behind her, and turned to Tommy. Well.

"Hello, Tommy."

Tommy did not move, though she knew by now that he was merely silent, not uncomprehending.

"I'm sorry for coming back here without you. But I might stay here, I want to know you. Is that okay?"

Rachel moved closer, not breaking eye contact. She felt as though she was taming a dangerous animal.

"Has anyone every touched you, Tommy?"

Rachel lifted her hand to Tommy's neck, and he flinched away from her. She lowered her hand to his shoulder, and let out a breath when he did not move away.

"It's alright, Tommy, I'm not going to hurt you…It's alright…"

Rachel did not know how long she stood there, running her hands over Tommy's arm and chest, feeling the give of his mask, and tracing the shape of the face underneath. She did not know how long she stayed there, but she knew that she was going to stay.


End file.
